Children

The day started with the screams of children. Never liked the things myself. Too messy. Always sticking their fingers in their various orifices. And let me tell you, their voices are just piercing. The ones outside my window will probably grow up to be alarm clocks if somebody doesn't strangle them first. So I might have lost my temper a little bit. It's not like I traumatized the little demons, I just yelled at them a bit to stop all that damn noise because folks were trying to sleep. It's not like I meant to make them cry. And, of course, they all ran to their parents and got them in a tizzy. Naturally, the mommys formed a coalition, a mommy mafia, to force me into silence. Bah. I'll be silent when their kids are. After such a delightful start to my day, I was walking through the lobby, getting my mail, understandably not in the best of moods, when this upstart kid from the floor below me, Johnny whatshisname, bumped into me and said "Hey Bootsy! How are ya?" Bootsy? That boy has no respect for his elders. Not like his brother. Now there's a fine upstanding young man. Always calls me Mr. Mcghee, asks if there's anything he can do to help me out, keeps his shirt tucked in. I told Johnny to buzz off, see if he can't learn any lessons from that brother of his. Anyway, I went about my day, business as usual, read the paper, heard about that nasty business with Evans. It was about five o' clock when I open my door to find not only Johnny but Johnny's parents, the parents of the little goblins that woke me up this morning, and the little goblins themselves. "Now Mr. Mcghee," one of the men says "we understand that you had a little temper tantrum this morning, is there something you'd like to say to these nice kids here?" I slammed that door shut. They'd pay for this humiliation.